POETRY
Creede
Beetle blight had eaten holes through the green
carpet of the mountains, above valleys
who lay soft and lush as courtesans seen
by fresh eyes. The land has borne worse follies,
mined for its riches, treasure hoards carried
on the backs of desperate men. Their homes
are ghosts, full of longing and dreams buried
with the dead. The towns resurrect the bones
or prospect: destination and nature
meet where history remains. Old struggles
give way to tourism and adventure.
Raw mountain survival is a battle.
It left us shaking in our bed, enthralled
by the place whose presence forever calls.
Creede, Colorado is another place we love visiting. It was the first place we camped in Colorado, and the place that taught us we needed a better setup in the tent if we were going to manage that kind of chill at night. Of course I couldn’t access any of my photographs from there; you’ll have to use your imagination. Thank you for reading!
